I Know What You Did Last Semester
by wyverna
Summary: Um... I don't know... There's a kinda summary inside - read that! {R&R}


Disclaimer: You know how it goes. 

Summary: A new girl comes to Horace Green High, and after being relentlessly bullied goes slightly mad and starts going on an insane killing spree.

Quite gory, but I think it's funny. Maybe I've got a twisted sense of humor, of maybe I've been watching too many Itchy and Scratchy cartoons. If you think I should up the rating to "R" then please let me know. Maybe not for this chapter, but possibly for the rest.

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I start my tale like so many before me, with the same words. This story, however, is not your normal story. It tells of horror, and of destruction. Listen... if you dare.

A new girl walked into Horace Green High. Yep, this very same school, just a few years ago. I was here – I saw it all. And as you know, at this school you're allowed to wear your own clothes, and most of the students take full advantage of that, just as they did then. The new girl was wearing dungarees over what liked like a gray woolly top. She had big clunky boots on, like you might wear on a farm. Her long brown hair was pulled back into two bunches, and she had circular glasses on, with black frames. She had a slightly podgy face, but she was really thin. All in all, not ugly, not pretty, just... average.

And average kids are accepted, right? Therefore the new kid would be accepted. Until the teacher opened her mouth and said the same words that teachers all over the world say to new kids.

'So, tell the class about yourself.' The poor kid still had a chance. Just blurt out a few garbled words, your name and where you live, and you'll be alright. Unless, of course, you've been home schooled. Then you don't know what to say, and how the kids in the class will torture you. Same goes for this girl. She just didn't know what to say.

'Yah, well, my name's Clarabelle.' Bad start. Mind you, I guess she never had a chance with a name like 'Clarabelle'. Also, she had braces. And not just those colored ones, either. Big metal mouth, with rubber bands all over.

'We come from dahn south.' You could tell, as well. Real hill-billy accent. You could hear kids start to mimic it already. 'Dahn south.'

'Ah've never bin to school, as mah ma - ' _Mah ma_. She meant to say 'my mom', but with her accent, and the fact that she called her mom 'ma', it came out as basically ma ma.

'Mah ma taught me at home, when ah wasn't workin' on the farm, that was.' Ah. That explained the boots, then. It just got worse and worse. Until, finally, she gave herself the death sentence.

'Ah really hope ah make lots an' lots of new pals here. Ah'm just so lookin' forward to workin' with y'all!' Snigger, snigger, snigger. If there was one thing ol' Clarabelle wasn't going to do, it was to make 'lots an' lots of new pals'. Kids can be so cruel.

'Very nice, ah, Clarabelle. Why don't you go and sit next to Freddy Jones? Freddy – raise your hand.' Freddy Jones. You've heard of him – right? Finished school coupla years ago, now drumming in that band. Comes to school assemblies sometimes. Anyway, in the circumstances he was the worst person she could've sat next to. Even after that Dewey Finn guy came, Freddy was still a bit of a bully.

Anyways, Clarabelle went and sat next to Freddy. Poor girl had been sat down for two minutes, when she turned to him and started to talk. Didn't know what she was letting herself in for.

'So, your name's Freddy, right?'

'Yeah. I've been on TV, a couple of years ago, when Dewey Finn came. Did you see?' Hey, the guy was quite nice. So she thought, at first anyway.

'No, ah don't have a TV.' He turned to face her.

'You don't have a TV?'

'No, ah don't have a phone or an electric cooker either. Mah ma an' pa can't afford all this here modern stuff.'

'How do you cook your food, then?' He was still being civil. Probably just curious. Who knows – maybe Clarabelle could pull this off.

'We have a gas range. We do have some modern stuff, ah've got a cell phone.'

'Let me see.' A demand. All civilities slowly _going_...

'Here it is.'

'It's like a brick! How old is this dumb thing?' _Going..._

'Only abaht ten years. It's not that old. Mah record player's older than that.'

'You have a record player? You are one stupid girl. I can't believe I'm even talking to you. You're a throwback from the 80s.' _Gone_. He turned away from her with a look of disgust. So Clarabelle sat there in silence. About, oh, fifteen more minutes into the lesson, he dropped a note on her lap. She picked it up eagerly. She'd heard about kids passing notes in class. She felt excited. They were finally accepting her.

_What do you think of the teacher? Do you think she's stupid? I do_. The person who wrote this had gorgeous italic handwriting. Clarabelle's looked really scruffy next to it.  
**no i think shes nice**, Clarabelle replied. Her punctuation and spelling sucked, as Clarabelle had only been taught at home.  
_No, come on. What do you really think? No-one here likes her. If you want to be our friend, then tell us what you really think of her.  
_**ohkay shes a bit anoying**

_Oh, come on! You can so do better than that. What else you got?_  
**shes relly stupid and i hate her she has no dress sens and she is a bad techer.** Clarabelle passed the note back, really believing that this person wanted to be friends with her. She was that naive. A few minutes later a small girl's hand shot up in the air.

'Yes, Summer?' asked the teacher. 'What is it?'

'Please, Miss Golightly, I found this note.' With a shock, Clarabelle recognised her own handwriting. The note had been neatly cut with scissors, so you could only see Clarabelle's last words, 'She's really stupid and I hate her. She has no dress sense and she is a bad teacher', or rather 'shes relly stupid and i hate her she has no dress sens and she is a bad techer.'

'I think it looks like Clarabelle's handwriting, Miss.'

'I hate to say this, Summer, but I think you might be correct. Clarabelle, I am very disappointed in you. Detention, after school.'

Lunchtime. Clarabelle sighed. Even if no-one in all her classes so far liked her, someone at lunch was bound to, right? I mean, that's how it goes. The whole school gets together at lunch, so if you don't find a friend then, you're done for. Doomed to be friendless. It's make or break. And as much as I hate to say this, it looked like poor ol' Clarabelle was going to break.

She stood there, in the middle of the busy cafeteria, brown paper bag in hand. She looked around blankly, with no idea where to sit. She picked a table at random, one with some pretty looking blonde girls who were giggling with some guys. She nervously smiled, her mouth looking like it'd been caught in an explosion in a rubber band factory. The other kids all sniggered. Ok, not the best start. She pulled out a seat.

'Uh, hi, y'all. Um, do yeh mind if ah sit here?' One of the guys reached over and pushed the chair back in.

'Um, _yah_, I do mind if yeh sit here,' he mimicked. Tears came to her eyes, and poor Clarabelle turned aside. She made her way to a different table, where some pale kids with too much eyeliner were sat, a cluster of black.

'Can... Can ah sit here?' she asked more nervously. They turned and stared at her.

'No,' whispered one. 'Only the true worshipper of the almighty Dark One may sit there.'

'Do, do yah mean the _devil_?' she asked hesitantly. They gave a collective gasp.

'His name! She spoke his name!' One rose and pointed at her.

'Begone from this place, foul fiend!' Clarabelle bit her lip.

'Umm... ok, then.' She turned to yet another table.

'Can ah sit _here_?' The kids on this table turned to look at her, with a jolt she realized she recognised one or two of them. There was the boy that she sat next to in homeroom, Freddy something. There was the tiny girl that had got her into trouble, what was her name? Summer? There was a boy from her Math lesson, Zack, and another boy from her keyboard lesson earlier, Lawrence. There were some other girls who she didn't know, and a couple of other boys. They were nearly all in that band I mentioned earlier, School of Rock, you know the one.

They looked up at her, the few that knew her with a sneery look on their faces.

'You wanna sit here?' Freddy asked. ''Cause you can sit here. If you wanna sit here.'

'Uh, no thanks, ah'll pass thanks.'

'What?' asked one of the girls who Clarabelle didn't know. She wasn't in that band, she'd only met the kids in high school, her and a coupla others. 'Did you just say you _didn't_ want to sit with us?' Clarabelle went bright red.

'No, no, ah didn't say that.' Another girl took it up now.

'Well? Are yah gonna sit dahn now?' she asked, cruelly mimicking Clarabelle. Tears sprang to poor Clarabelle's eyes.

'No, ah... ah've seen another place, just over thah,' she said, her nervousness making her accent even stronger.

'Yah know wha'?' asked the first girl, turning to Freddy, who she was sat next to. 'Ah reckon she don't wanna sit wi' us, Spazzy.'

'Ah think yah migh' be righ' there, Jade,' he replied. 'Wha' do yah think, Melissah?' Melissa smiled.

'Ah'm not sure. Why don' we ask her?'

'Ah think ah will,' answered Jade, turning back to Clarabelle. 'Don' yah wanna sit wi' us now, Clarabelle?' Clarabelle flushed again.

'All righ' then, ah guess ah will sit wi' yah,' she said, hoping it might appease them. Unfortunately, they continued to torment her all through lunch, especially Freddy, Zack, Jade and some other guy called Frankie.

At one point the teacher walked past. Clarabelle turned to her desperately, hoping she might be able to shut them up.

'Miss, miss, thay're makin' fun o' me,' she wailed. 'Can yeh stop 'em please, miss, they won't stop!' She broke down in tears, much to the amusement of Freddy, Zack, Frankie and Jade.

'Now, now, we can't have that,' said the teacher. 'Now then, Freddy, Frankie, Zack, Jade, ah expect t' see yah all in mah office later.' She winked at them, and it was the final straw for poor old Clarabelle. Pushing the teacher aside, she fled from the room. She didn't come back the next day, or the day after, or even the day after that. No, Clarabelle was no longer a student at Horace Green High.


End file.
